


Fangs

by littlemisslawyer



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Biting, Blood Drinking, Bottom Hannibal, Courtship, Dark Will Graham, Hannibal is a Cannibal, M/M, Murder Husbands, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slight OOC Hannibal, Top Will, Vampire Will, Will Knows
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-02-28 22:19:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2749232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemisslawyer/pseuds/littlemisslawyer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>William Graham is an ordinary man, or so he thought. Until one morning, a child knocked on to his house and turned his life upside down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Extinction](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Extinction/gifts).



> For the gorgeous lady. I was supposed to make two different stories but the lovely Extinction loved both and so this shizz is born. Do enjoy doll!

Will stared. He is not sure whether or not he is awake right now, or whether he is on a middle of some sort of a prank. He embarrassingly slapped his face, but the pain that shot right after only solidified that he is in fact awake.

 

“You are embarrassing me William.” the child, definitely a child demanded. Though her grey blue eyes that are strikingly similar to Will is wise beyond her age “Invite me in.”

 

Blushing, Will ushered the young girl into his home. The dogs started to growl but one look from the girl made them all whimper back.

 

“Stupid mutts.” she muttered, removing her coat and carefully placing it on the couch. She wrinkled her nose in distaste, before facing her host, who is wise enough to carry her luggage inside. “Go and get dressed, it is embarrassing to face a lady with mere underpants and that dreadful shirt.”

 

Will felt like he was being reprimanded by someone who is older than him, and true enough it is embarrassing to face the little girl with nothing but his sleepwear. As if controlled, he rushed to his bedroom without another word and scurried to find the best shirt and pants that he had, not even knowing why. The kid just arrived at his house at four in the morning, the sun barely up, knocking at his door with a large bag alone and no one else.

 

Once done, he went back to his living room to find the girl already sitting on the couch, drinking some tea on a fine china, while the dogs surrounded her on her tiny feet. Since when did he had a cup like that, and tea?

 

“Uh…” he started, trying to regain whatever is left of himself. He is not usually like this, anyone could attest that, but it seems that this girl could just shut him up in an instant and can put him on his place.

 

“Never begin a sentence with an ‘Uh’ William, we are educated beings.” she started, taking another sip on her tea before placing it down “I know you have many questions in mind child. But first, let me introduce myself.”

 

The child stood up and brushed the non-existent dust on her skirt. She stared at Will, looking at him from head to toe, grimacing at what she presumed to be his best clothes.

 

“We have to get you shopping.” she murmurs to herself “I am Beatrice Adams.”

 

“Beatrice.” Will tested the name on his tongue. Quite a name for such a young child “A pleasure to meet you. Though, I must ask.” He bit his lip “How… who…?”

 

“I am one of your relatives from Europe.” Beatrice cuts him off before the man could even finish his question. She has to train the man on how to be a member of her family. The traditions that they had for generations and their methods of feeding. She gave a whiff and cringed. Too sweet and trashy, a binding spell and it's killing him from the inside. She would have to take care of that and make sure that he won’t be alone anymore.  ‘ _Genus et non alius_ ’ is the family motto after all. “To be frank, I am your Aunt Beatrice. And you sir, are what we on the neighbourhood called, a vampire.”


	2. Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was overwhelmed with the initial response and I just want to keep writing, but making sure that I won't disappoint. So I hope I didn't. Enjoy and Happy Christmas :3

“Okay kid, now I don't believe you.” Oh gods, his hallucinations might be worsening if he is now seeing and talking with a child, who claims to be a vampire.

 

“Shut up and sit down William.” And Will’s mouth did shut, taking a seat on the nearest chair as if compelled to do so. Will was shocked; he felt something tingling with him, as if some sort of force came with the order. He stared at the girl, eyes widening with fear. Is she telling the truth? He knows he can just take a peak, but those eerie eyes that he first looked at gives him fear, fear than most of the mind of murderers he has looked into. Like the monsters that he saw were nothing compared to her.

 

“Now, as I was saying. I am your aunt, though looks could be every bit deceiving.” Beatrice said pointedly. “I am older than you. You are nothing but a speck on my age, and I looked like this because I stopped aging.”

 

Will merely nodded, and scrunched his face. This shit can’t be real right? But the pressure that he felt from the unknown force feels so real that he can’t help but think, was there really any truth on the supernatural?

 

“Let’s suppose I believe you.” Will licked his sudden dry lips “How can I become a vampire if I haven’t been drinking… blood.”

 

Now they are going somewhere. The flurry of thoughts that her child has is making her head hurt. “Your mother is a vampire, and upon meeting her _one_.” she snarled, her teeth baring and for the first time, Will saw her elongated canine making him believe every words she said. “She refuses to drink. Her immortality will save her but not for long.” she approached her niece and sat on his lap “And then she had you, our very last son.” A full fledge vampire that can live without even drinking blood.

 

Will could feel the coldness of her hand to his face, making him shiver. Her aura, demeanor and the words coming from her seem to be real, and he is inclined to believe in her.

 

“Aunt Beatrice.” Disbelief still lingers on him but it seems to be the most appropriate way to call the child.

 

Beatrice smiled, patting Will on the cheek “I don’t want to be old, so Beatrice would be fine.” she instructed, slipping out of Will’s lap and back to her chair. “Now, William. I know what you have been up to since your father has passed, and since you are nothing but a babe in our world, I am responsible for you in every way.” she gave him a long stare, waiting for him to do anything, but the child is polite enough to let her finish “What I am saying is that, I want you to remove yourself from the FBI. You can be a teacher or a consultant but not an agent, who Mr. Crawford can summon on his every beck and call, like his personal attack dog.”

 

“Now that’s…” Will stood up and started to protest, but the more that he thinks about it, the more he realize that Beatrice is right.

 

“Correct.” Beatrice finished for him with a smug look on her face “I took the liberty of drafting your new contract. All you need is to sign and the family lawyers would take care of it.”

 

Everything felt so unreal, that in a flash his life has suddenly turned. If he agrees to this compromise then the life that he has lived for most of his life would be forever changed. He would no longer be William Graham, profiler extraordinaire but rather a being that is everyone is disinclined to believe.

 

“If I say yes… you’ll turn me?”

 

“Stupid child! You’re a vampire of your own!” Beatrice explained, jumping from her seat and hitting William on the head “Lucky you, someone is feeding you human meat or else you would really be dead!”

 

Will’s eyes widened, human meat, someone is feeding him human meat. Which means that the man that he’s been hunting is closer than they know. But how? There are very limited people who knew about… no! It can’t be!

 

“Stop on your obsession and listen to me child!” Beatrice started, pulling Will on her face “You cannot, in any circumstance tell who your feeder is. He is to be your _one_.” Beatrice has chosen the doctor for her child. She won’t let Will be like her mother, who was forsaken by his awful father because of her… fangs. The doctor is perfect for him, and she knows it. Will doesn’t as of the moment but she would make sure that they end up together. The attraction is already there, so why not push it a bit more? But first…

 

“Now, do you have any other concerns before I finalize everything here and whisk you off to the manor?” Beatrice asked, removing her grip on to the younger vampire and sitting once again on Will’s couch “I deplore your home William and I refuse to stay for more than a day here. I won’t even dare to unpack.”

 

Will was on a pickle, either he leaves or not. A chance or his destruction; an old boring life or a new life of the unknown, but the prospect of family. Family besides the stray the he collects, though loyal to boot, he can’t live with just them alone.

 

“If I go, can they come with me?” Will asked, he knows that he will go with her anyway, a total stranger who claims herself to be family and of the undead.

 

“I hate mutts.” Beatrice said bluntly, but patted Winston’s head when the dog whined. “Three, I will allow.” she conceded “And take him with you.” A finger pointed on Winston who instantly nuzzled on to it.

 

Will was quiet; looking at the house he called home for the past decade or so in his life. He will miss the solitude, the anonymity. Though he thinks it won’t even change since he has another secret to hide.

 

“When do we leave?”

-      _look! a fucking line –_

 

Hannibal started his day with the usual routine he’s been having for the past three decades. He wakes up, have a short run and check his mail, which is usually from his acquaintances, and so he was surprised when he found a letter with one of the most expensive stationaries, one that is rivaling that of his own. What’s more curious is that it was addressed to him on a fine script, with no return address, just his name and nothing else.

 

Curious, he looked at the street to check if the sender is still at the neighborhood. His senses heightened, the predator in him thrumming. Quietly, he made his way back in his house and proceeded to his office to get his letter opener. He takes a small whiff and frowned when he got nothing. Not a remnant of a perfume so he cannot identify if it is from a man or a woman and the handwriting can be easily made by either gender. He unfolded the letter and smiled widely at the message. Someone has taken interest on him, either its on a good way or in a bad way.

 

**_I’m coming for you._ **

****

**_xoxo_ **

**_\- W.A.G._ **


	3. Lure

It has been three years since two suits visited jack Crawford on his office. Three years since William Graham has created an ultimatum regarding his employment with the FBI, making Jack infuriated but had digressed, if only he could still use the profiler’s skills. Three years since the profiler has vanished in the face of the planet. Three years since Hannibal has received his first letter from W.A.G.

 

And oh what fun it was, to receive notes from his admirer. At first he was skeptical, especially when no return address was placed, however in the course of the first year, he feels that he is being courted. At first, he thought that it was the missing profiler, yet the handwriting is different from that of Will’s and the expensive stationary is not the man’s style. Second is that, he knows that Will’s middle name is Charles. It was difficult to coax it out from the man, but armed with his PhD credentials and a little persuasion, Will did revealed it to him albeit shyly.

 

He was curious, the sheer poetry of the words astound him, as if the man (definitely when one of the letters shows the indents and a faint whiff of an aftershave) was worshiping him. Oh no, not for his beauty but for his kills. A depiction, a review of the art that he presents with the trios that he has constantly dropped to the FBI. It stirs something from Hannibal. A long forgotten feeling, that he didn’t know exist until now. Lust.

 

He was lusting on a faceless man, armed with the words from God that made him, dare he say it giddy. He wanted to reply, possibly placing a letter on his own mailbox since everything is delivered. Yet his suitor only got one of his letters. One each year to be exact: every Friday the 13th.

 

Which are a few days from today, Hannibal mused. Excited at the prospect of sending another message to his… admirer would be the word. He made his own already a couple of days back and just sending its just a matter of sending it.

 

“Doctor Lecter?” Elise Anderson, his new client called on him. He must have zoned out and the old lady has already finished talking “Are you quite alright?”

 

Mrs. Anderson was one of the clients that he actually likes, always kind and charming as well as warm. She was always smiling, and talks about this wonderful boy that she fortunately met.

 

“Forgive me, I have remembered an engagement on the 13th that I was looking forward to.” He said, half a lie “Very unprofessional now that I thought about it.”

 

The old lady giggled, shaking her head “It’s quite alright. Though I don’t suppose that you would be busy that night?”

 

That perked up Hannibal, though a regular person could only see a slight shift on his seat “I believe I have a dinner for one is set.” Hannibal smiled

 

“Oh Doctor, you are quite amusing at times.” the old woman shifted on her seat to get on her bag. She pulled out an invitation and offered it to Hannibal, who in turn, graciously accepted it. And then it hit him, the familiar aftershave that he has stored on his memory palace. He stiffened, hand tightening on the envelope.

 

“I don’t want to be rude doctor, but I think our time is already up.” Elise smiled, standing up and slinging her purse “I will see you again soon?”

 

Hannibal mechanically stood up and nodded. He saw Elise out who just smiled smugly at him and leaving him in peace. As soon as the door is closed, he made a beeline to his table to reach for his letter opener.

 

The doctor almost groaned when the smell is much heavier now, the scent so new yet familiar. He steadied his hand and opened the letter carefully, too afraid to rip it. The familiar script of his admirer welcomes him, his eyes widening at the words.

 

**_My Dear Hannibal,_ **

****

**_I shall see you very soon._ **

****

-       **_W.A.G._**

 

And on it is an invitation to a party on Friday, along with the address and the theme. Masquerade.  He smiled to himself. After three years, he’s going to finally meet him.

 

-      _look! a fucking line –_

 

Wednesday night Hannibal was called by the FBI, to consult on what seems to be another murder. One that is really eerie, with nothing but two small puncture wounds that resembles…

 

“Vampire.” Price said, looking at the body of a man.

 

“Vampire?” Jack repeated, an eyebrow raised to scientist, disbelief filling on his face

 

“A human vampire or some sorts because that is the only explanation that we could only have.”

 

The ‘Sassy Science’ team was, for the first time, stumped. They cannot even think of any explanation as to how the bodies died. No stab wound, gunshot wound or anything that would explain their demise. The organs are intact; nothing was tampered with except for the loss of all the blood.

 

Jack sighed; the killers are getting more and more ridiculous and good. They could barely even capture one. ‘If Will was here.’ He mused, but the profiler has gone on a sabbatical, and his return is unknown.

 

“What can you say about this Doctor? Are we dealing with some psychopath that thinks he is the next count Dracula?” the BSU chief turned on to their expert who looks every bit like a statue.

 

Hannibal in turn was interested on the killer, he can see how ‘he’ discarded everybody like some lowlife mortal and by the looks of their profile is what he himself would consider as pigs. An unsung hero, dark knight so to speak.

 

“I believe that the man perceives himself to be somewhat a creature of the night, replicating the ideology of that of a supernatural.” Hannibal started, highly intrigued “But the number of body drops suggests that he or she is not alone. They might be a couple, a dark Bonnie and Clyde. One that lures and the one that drains, or maybe both.”

 

Jack looked at him skeptically; clearly even the doctor could not give more than what he has already saw. They all knew that it was a different kind of killer, nothing that they have encountered before. It was as if they knew what to hide from the FBI, what would be the course of action.

 

“Thank you doctor.” Jack sighed, dejected and annoyed. Another body drops and they didn’t have any more clues other than what they knew.

 

“A pleasure, Agent Crawford.” Hannibal gave a short nod “Now, I would only be available on my phone if you need anything, but otherwise, I would currently be indisposed.”

 

“Of course doctor.”

 

With that Hannibal left the Bureau. What he didn’t tell is that somehow the number of body drops are significant. All of which are purely dedicated to one person, him. He didn’t know why or how, all he knows is that his gut is telling him that everything is for him. ‘ _I took the blood… you can have the meat_.’

 

-      _look! another fucking line –_

 

He did not hear anything from Jack other than they had found another body with the same MO and that it could wait. Apparently, it could wait, and so he busied himself on procuring a tuxedo that will compliment the mask that he was given to. For all intents and purposes, his suitor was the one who sent him the mask hours after his last appointment with Mrs. Anderson, as if he has already planned everything. Which he might did, considering that the old woman just spur on his client list a couple of weeks after the first letter.

 

W.A.G. has clearly gotten his attention if that is what he is aiming for, and lucky for him, Hannibal took it in a good way, or he would be having him for dinner, one way or another.

 

Friday came, and Hannibal felt silly on the giddy feeling that he had on the pit of his stomach. As if he was an anxious teen, about to go on his first dance. He was not like this, he is supposed to be controlled and at his element. But this man, even though he has yet to meet him has started something with his letters. He has never experienced being courted before, or whatever this exchange may be called. So he doesn’t know how to act, a mistake that his brain has now registered because he can’t help but break his mask whenever he thought of him.

 

He shook his head, clearing it off from all the thoughts about the man and how… sappy it sounds, like a girl pining over for her mystery man. With a flourish touch with his bow, he was done. He was wearing the customary tuxedo except for the blood red bowtie in an all black ensemble. A bit creepy and not his style but that compliments the mask perfectly.

 

Driving with the Bentley made his nerves settle down for a bit, his mind being occupied on not slamming on anything, either living or not. The streets are empty, which is a curious thing. Either the people of Baltimore is invited to the party or just plain superstitious, he could only guess.

 

The roads led him to the farther side of Baltimore, a half an hour drive from his residence. What he saw made him gasp, and he felt a sense of déjà vu. It looks so much like the manor of the late Lady Murasaki in Paris, though with a slight modern day touch. Everything is covered in trees and the place is pretty much secluded, making him wonder how he did not hear of such place before.

 

Cars are already rounding and Hannibal was surprised that it had its own valet service.

 

“Monsieur, please wear your mask before going down. It was the young master’s orders for the guest to come inside unknown.” The valet, who is also covered by a white mask, instructed before the Hannibal could even go down his car.

 

“Of course.”

 

Hannibal slipped on his mask and with an approving nod, slid out of his car and let the valet take it from him. The party has already begun, guest are already coming inside. His feet have started to walk before he even realizes it, as if lured by a siren to the sea. He was ready to meet the man that invited him, his suitor, **W.A.G.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one-half of the supposedly one whole chapter, but I decided to cut it on to two so you'll be having another before the year ends~! Any who! Happy Christmas :3 Enjoy though this is a bit boring. The fun starts on the next one, I promise.


	4. Lace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating before the year ends! It might be my last update since my Holiday break is almost over. But fret not! I'll try to update at least once every month. I hope that you'll enjoy this since I wrote it quite fast. And I apologise if Hannibal seems to be out of character. I'm trying to ease his character into the Bottom!Hannibal tag... so yeah. Happy New Year and I hope that you had a fun 2014~ Cheers!
> 
> On the side note... this chapter is an incentive... do enjoy Doll!

If there is something that Hannibal didn’t like is that of being surprised. The ballroom where he was escorted to looks just likes that of his teens, every nook and cranny, every bit of tapestry and vases. Even the grand stairs are designed just like that in Paris, and the doctor didn’t know on whether he should be nostalgic or angry.

 

How could he… the master of this house make fun of him? It’s a clear message that the man has known everything about his past. It was a huge sign, a slap on his face. But he cannot be angry, not when he found out that most of his acquaintances from the opera are here, including the artists that he gave standing ovations to.

 

He mingled, joining on the festivities though at the back of his mind, Hannibal is seething. Every turn he makes reminds him of his past, the one that he had run off to in the very beginning. Refusing to be defeated by his horrors, he smiled and tried to enjoy himself. He was familiar with everyone he has talked to, his or her scents carefully placed at his memory palace for his peruse.

 

Hannibal did start to relax, the alcohol and finger food were served. The party is mostly social rather than a dreaded dinner on a table and so more food was served every minute. There was dancing and laughter, yet Hannibal has not seen nor was introduced to the master of the house. In fact, the identity of was not even placed in the invitation. He carefully pried to his acquaintances the name of the host, yet none can answer him. They were personally delivered, they said or were mailed to with Elise Anderson as the sender. It left a sense of foreboding to him, that he was the only one who knew, or rather speculated that his mysterious letter sender was the owner of the mansion.

 

A few more hours of socializing, before he excused himself to go freshen himself up. He could feel the warm flush on his cheeks from the amount of alcohol that he has consumed for the night. True to its design, Hannibal knew where the guest washroom is, making his earlier irritation raise once more. He gritted his teeth, locking the bathroom door before removing his mask, splashing some cold water to his face.

 

He gave himself a once over, fixing the bow of his tuxedo even though it was perfectly aligned and preceded to wear his mask once more. He checked his phone and noted that it was a couple of minutes before midnight. According to the guests that the mask would be removed at the exact time, like that in the fairy tails.

 

He went out and was about to go back to the ballroom when something caught his eyes. It was brown and four legged, tongue dangling on his mouth and was staring at him. He blinked and the animal was gone on to the corner, entering another room on the far end of the hallway. He tried to blink once more, his brain trying to comprehend what he just saw. It couldn’t be could it? But the smell, the stench that he once hate is so familiar that his feet was walking before he even knew it, following where the animal went to.

 

Hannibal could have sworn that he saw a tail entering the room; in fact, he could have sworn he saw a dog, a very familiar dog, and one that his former or rather, absent patient owns. He stopped at the closed door, frowning when he recalled that there is no such room on his Uncle Robertus’ home at this hallway. His curiosity piqued, opening the door before his morals could scream at him.

 

What he saw made him gasp. It was his office, or more importantly, a replica of his office. Everything looks the same, even the curtains and the ladder on the far end of the room. The fireplace, the oaken table and the chairs are carefully placed to mimic that of his office.

 

The books though, are a tell tale sign of difference. Instead of journals and psychiatric books, it was filled with stories, fictions, and histories on every language that Hannibal could read. Mesmerized, he stepped on to the ladder and went to the gallery, fingers trailing on the spine of several books that he swore, his late mother used to read to him when he was a child.

 

“Are you lost?” a voice startled Hannibal, looking down from the gallery.

 

A man, by the looks of it stares at him, donned with an all black ensemble, making the man’s skin paler, as if he was licked by death. Starling blue eyes behind the black lace Venetian mask stared at him curiously. Hair, dark brown in color, cut short and stylish was combed and slick.

 

“Sir?” he prompted, voice has a bit of an accent. English.

 

“I apologize. I was just mesmerized by the amount of books.” Hannibal finally got the sense to reply

 

“Ah.” The man smiled, hands on his pocket as he stare at the doctor “I’m glad that someone appreciates my study.”

 

Hannibal raised an eyebrow “You are the master of this house?”

 

“Indeed I am sir.”

 

Suddenly, a wave of shame flooded on him but he did not let it show on his face. And then it hits him. The invitation, the mask, and when he took a small whiff, the familiar aftershave.

 

“You’re W.A.G.”

 

An amused smiled was directed to him “And you are Count Hannibal Lecter the Eight. Or would you rather prefer Doctor Hannibal Lecter.” The man chuckles at Hannibal’s surprised look “Pretty anti-climatic at the scheduled reveal, but we could play pretend until midnight.” Hannibal knows he was teasing but he can’t help but feel slightly annoyed.

 

“You should have denied my conclusion if you want to remain mysterious.” He said, voice cold as he composing himself.

 

“What’s the point in denying when you already know of my identity.” was the immediate retort, still playful but with the edge of danger that Hannibal can’t help but shiver “Should I call upon thee oh great Juliet?” the man continued, eyes not leaving Hannibal’s “For the gentleman to come down into my arms? To run my hand to those silken locks and kiss those red cherry lips?”

 

Hannibal tried to stomp off the blush that is forming on his face. The man is clearly flirting with him, but he would not be defeated by the arrogant prick. The man from the letters is different from the man before him. W.A.G. or what he wrote on his letters are soft and sweet, making the young Hannibal inside him purr, yet the man in front of him screams darkness, arrogance and _danger_.

 

“You are not W.A.G.,” he concluded. The man has no proof after all and assuming that he was is rude. If the man continues to irritate him, he might get himself a ‘to go’ body with him.

 

Silence instilled on the room, the man’s lips tilted on a smirk. And then he started to recite to Hannibal.

 

“ _Dear Mr. W.A.G.,_

_I am flattered by your words and proclamation. Sweet as they may be, but I am rather skeptical as to your identity. And I am afraid that I do not do well with stalking. I am half tempted on telling about you with the police, but there is less of a clue that you left me. I have tried to figure out your identity, even starting to response at your letters. Yet every time I tried to reply for the last couple of months, you have yet to take one. I am hoping that this one would make it thru, because I am afraid that I might hunt you down just to see you. You must have known, if you ever did try and stalk me, that I am a good hunter. And it may or may not end well for you, especially that I feel that I am threatened. I will not be responsible on the acts that I will make…_ ”

 

“Stop.” Hannibal’s grip on the railings tightened, his heart beating fast. That was the first letter that his enigmatic suitor has taken from his mailbox. The man knew it word per word, reciting it with such ease, as if he had read the mail over and over again.

 

The man chuckled, his face splitting on a grin “I apologize on my rudeness, but I cannot help but prove to you who I am. Or at least, the man who sang poetry to your beauty.” He walked towards the ladder and held his hand up “Please, come down. I would very much like to sing some more.”

 

“Tell me your name first.” He blurted out. Pausing when he received an amused smile “So I could address you properly.”

 

The man hummed, though the mischief on his eyes is still present “You can call me Adrian.”

 

Adrian, a false name, Hannibal mused. It made the doctor a bit skeptical at the outstretched hand, though he reminded himself that he is the Chesapeake Ripper and that he is a monster of his own. Slowly, he made his way down to the gallery, accepting the outstretched hands on the last couple of steps. The very first mistake that he made all night. Adrian suddenly pulled him, making him toppled over the other man. His reflexes kicked in and with a few seconds he was back on his feet. That was until Adrian crowded him, trapping him to the ladder. Hannibal swore he saw a flicker of red on those blue eyes for a second, but he was distracted when the man leaned on to him.

 

“You smell… divine.” the man gave a long sniff on to Hannibal’s neck, pressing his body to Hannibal. His lips started to trail on to the man’s neck, flicking his tongue to the heated skin, making Hannibal shiver. What the hell is happening to him? It was as if this Adrian is making him loose all his instincts as a predator. He was supposed to push the man, and attack himself, but his limbs refused to do so.

 

A trail of lips, touched on to the beating vein and Adrian can’t help but moan. He grazed his teeth, ghosting on Hannibal’s skin as if he wants a bite. But before he could do anything further, Adrian was stopped by a small voice from the door, one that Hannibal did not hear opening.

 

“Hey. It’s time.” A girl, wearing an all red ensemble with a lace Victorian mask, matching that of his assailant “And would you please, refrain yourself from attacking our guest. Do have some self control.”

 

Adrian huffed, but backed off, hands in the air with a mock surrender. “I apologize once more.” He said, and by anything he looks not sorry at all. “I shall leave now to give you time to compose yourself.” With a wink, Adrian left Hannibal and followed the little girl. Once the door closed, Hannibal released the breath that he was holding.

 

What has happened to him? He was not supposed to act like that. He is Hannibal Lecter, the infamous Chesapeake Ripper for heavens sake, but he can feel in his bones that the monster lurking within Adrian is a much bigger threat. He was deadlier than him; he can see how cunning the man is to his eyes, with a look that could bend Hannibal’s knees just like what happened earlier. He should leave; flee as far away as possible now that he has the time. But it was a few minutes before midnight, and it would be quite rude to leave without telling the host. Damn his sense of politeness.

 

Breathing for a couple of minutes, he composed himself and went back to the ballroom. Already, the people are buzzing with excitement. The guest already waiting on the grand stairs where Adrian and the girl from earlier was standing with his patient, Elise Anderson. The older woman was already unmasked, and was holding up a glass of champagne on her hand.

 

“I am glad that all of you came here to welcome my new friends and both that I now consider as family.” Elise said affectionately, making the two smiles at her. “And now for the reveal. I would like you to meet the newest addition to the Baltimore Society… Beatrice Elaina Adams.” The little girl removed her mask, giving a short courtesy that made the room coo. “And…”

 

Adrian started to remove his mas, making Hannibal gasp. If he were holding a champagne glass right now, he would have dropped it. He cannot believe what he was seeing. No wonder those eyes are familiar, yet the scent was different. Even his aura, the way he stands and carries himself if not the man that he used to know. But there is no doubt about the man’s identity. It was…

 

“William Adams Graham.”


	5. Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the plot continues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!!!!
> 
> I'm alive!!!
> 
> I apologize for the overly delayed update. This chapter has been seating on my laptop/tablet/phone for quite some time. I'm actually writing this on my tablet while on vacation, and I told myself, I must update at least one or two chapters before I go on to another hiatus.
> 
> And another is that... I'm quite busy in school as well. I'm actually graduating in school this November and I am zoning in to the last few units in my law school life. 
> 
> Any who, I won't bore you into anymore details.
> 
> OH! Tweet me as well @ _littlemslawyer... just because? Lol

_Part I_

 

Will stared by his window, holding a glass of the most expensive whiskey anyone could have. He was observing his guests as one by one, they left his home in high spirits. It may be considered to be rude that he is not the one sending them off, but a with a smile, and a fake excuse that he is suffering from jet lag, Will had gotten away with all the niceties.

After spending the night socializing with the leeches of Baltimore, Will was mentally exhausted. Yet he did not fail to observe Hannibal.

Hannibal. The look on the doctor's face is enough for Will to smile easily. He could still clearly see the shock on the good doctor's eyes even though his facade of neutrality is still in tact. He tried, oh the man did try to hide his shock from the masses, but the beat of his heart has spiked up the moment their eyes met.

The night’s festivity was perfect. It is just as planned, and that made Will very happy. It was the first step on claiming his mate, and that made the young vampire smile once more. Oh how he waited for so long to see his mate’s; and to smell his delectable blood.

"Soon my love" he mused, taking a sip from his whiskey.

“You are doing that creepy smile.” Beatrice sighed, feet dangling on the high chair she opted to seat with, drinking deep red ‘wine’. "I hate it when you do that."

Will rolled his eyes, taking another sip from his whiskey. He felt another presence in the room, the familiar smell of dog shampoo and... was that bacon?

"Come... Winston."

Graham’s familiar followed his master’s command and sat beside Will. The dog waited patiently for his rewards, and relished at the affectionate pat Will bestowed upon him.

“Good job tonight pal.” Will said, smiling to his loyal dog “Now go and take a rest. Aunt Beatrice and Daddy have to talk now.”

Winston gave an affirmative bark before heading off to his small little nuke on the house. Will smiled at how adorable his former stray and now familiar is. One of the perks of being a… supernatural of his stature is that he can have his own familiar; one that will follow him for eternity. Sighing, he downed the rest of his whisky before sitting on the chair beside the fireplace.

It was quiet for a bit, just the sound of the cackling fire and the ice melting. Will was deep in his thoughts as he stares at nothing, while the older vampire stares at him. Neither of them are breathing; after all, pretending to breath is quite exhausting. They could be mistaken as statues… no, more like dolls; what with their ethereal beauty and stillness.

“Is phase one, to your satisfaction?” Beatrice finally asks, breaking the cold silence.

“Yes.” Will replies, eyes flashing red while his lips tilted into a wicked smile “Time for phase two.”

 

\- ninuninu a fuking line crossing people! -

 

_Part II_

 

“We are not going anywhere with this case.” Beverly groaned. It was a Monday, and earlier that day, a jogger found a dead body of a woman on the park. What’s curious is how it was staged. It was as if she was like a fairytale princess, calmly sleeping in the middle of the park, with wilted leaves as her cushion. If it weren’t for the pale face and unmoving body, then the jogger might have not called the police.

“He’s mocking us.” Price sighed, collecting evidence to the poor woman. He carefully carried the glass slipper, dusting it for prints that he is sure not present. The woman was lying on the dirt on a black dress with a red ribbon carefully tied on her waist. The woman was blonde, on her mid thirties. She looks peaceful, as if she was just sleeping.

“Look at you psychoanalyzing like a professional.”

Price glared at Zeller, highly tempted to kick him… or poke him with the scalpel on his hand. Beverly looked at the 2/3 of the sassy science team and smiled. The two scientists has been channeling their inner "Will Graham" so to speak; their copin mechanism since their friend vanished into thin air. It might be news to some, but Price and Zeller has always been treating Will as their beloved brother; who just happens to have a severe empathy disorder.

Yes, while it is true that they were freaked out by how Will solves the crime scene, but sympathy slowly painted them when they realized the toll of such talent is doing to the young profiler. Thus, they took it upon themselves to take off some of the worse from Will, ergo, the quick clean ups and the after work beers.

"What do we got?"

And then there is their favorite uncle of all; aka their boss. Jack has been... off and harsher than the usual. They can work with the old Jack, but the new one... oh, he was a fucking nightmare. The pressure is twice over, and his barking orders; Beverly wants to tear her hair out.

"Well, we got nothing." Beverly did not even bother to sugar coating her words "Except for the fact that they are all drained, except for that drop of blood, enough for us to identify them."

Jack gritted hi teeth, a feat that he now usually do whenever he is exasperated. Beverly could swear that she can almost hear the grinding of the man's teeth.

"Have you forgotten me? I love you, and I cannot live without you. Your absence consumes me. I am yours, faithfully."

Beverly gasped at the familiar rasp, even though it is coated with another accent. The resounding foot steps echoes to the halls of the Behevioral Science Unit. Everyone was still, as if time stops upon them.

Slowly, Beverly turned on where the voice is coming from, and by god, she almost cried. There he was... William fucking Graham, standing by the door of the laboratory as if he was a goddamn king. Gone are the placid shirts and awfully fitted jean, and instead he was dressed in... is that Armani suit?; hands covered in black velvet gloves. The female FBI squinte her eye when she saw something by the other man's wrist. Was that a tattoo?

His hair was shorter, perfectly trimmed and gelled. His beard is gone, and he was sporting a clean shaven face that made him look as if he was still on his twenties. How Will achieved such grandeur in three years, is a fucking big mystery. One that she wants to solve.

"Finally out of sabbatical?" Price asked, smiling.

"Of course." Will replied, moving closer to the team. He looked fondly at Price and Zeller, before looking to the chief of the BSU "Your killer is courting someone"

His voice think with British accent, as if he has been in England since he was a child.

"What do you mean?"

Will turned and looked at the pictures before him, each one the face of the victims by the new murderer.

"Artemesia, Holly, Primrose, Rose and Violet." he pointed at each victim's pictures "What do they have in common?"

He looked at the team as if he was a professor and is in a middle of a lecture. He stood prim and proper, with his hands behind his back. When he got no response, he smiled, a half tug on his face before taking the marker.

"Each one of them, represents a flower. One of which has a different meaning than the other." He continued, placing the meanings of the name under the photographs. "He left precisely a drop of blood for you to identify them. I think... he's done with this cycle. Unless he reciprocates. "

"Who?"

Will turned once more to them, his face that of a gleeful child; one that the old Will Graham does not wear.

"The Chesapeake Ripper, of course."

The whole room froze once more. The ripper is enough of a problem, and now he has a fucking suitor. Beverly wanted to groan, why did she ended up being assigned in Baltimore? She should have accepted the offer in New York. Less crazy people.

Will gave the victims one last look before straightening up his suit, as if he was already preparing to leave. Before anyone could ask him further questions, anyone meaning Jack Crawford, a burly man arrived. One who is large in size and is wearing a much cheaper suit.

"Master Graham, you are being summoned back." American, one from New Orleans by the twang on his voice.

"Very well." Will's smile did not left his face once. He gave Zeller and Price a half hug and a promise to catch up, while he gave Beverly a hug and a kiss on her cheek. An odd practice, it one that is not unwelcome. "Jack." a clipped farewell.

He was almost out of the door when Jack finally came into his senses.

"Are you back?" Jack asked, a sliver of hope on his tone

"I've already signed the papers." Will replied, his back on Jack, or even bothering to turn

"Yes, I've read the papers. But I'm asking you... are you back?"

"As a consultant. Nothing more, nothing less."

The answer angered Jack, storming to Will with the intention of grabbing his arm. But before he made it to the other man, Will's bodyguard was already in between of them.

"Be careful of your next words Agent Crawford." Will's voice grew cold "If you will spout your usual none sense that people are dying, well bloody fuck, I don't care, because people are always dying." This time, Will faced Jack and Beverly could swear that his eyes glinted red "Now if there is nothing else."

And with that, Will left the four agents dumbfounded.

"Oh Shit."

\- ninuninu another line here -

 

_Part III_

 

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

Hannibal was enjoying his night, relaxing as the hour passes by. It was their “time”, and the doctor has kept the particular hour booked, even though he knew that there is only one person that he has allowed to have an appointment this late. And he was not wrong, standing before him is Will Graham… Or at least, the person appearing to be Will Graham.

“Of course… how rude of me..” he replied “Please do.”

Will smiled and took one step inside his office as if an invisible barrier has gotten down.

It has been three years since their last session; since Will vanished in thin air, and ever since that day, the good doctor has been wondering on what had happened to his supposed friend, and how did he manage to disappear at such manner.

But lo and behold, here he is, presenting himself once again to him. The lamb is back at the lion’s den, and everything that suggest that it was not the same lamb that he has been… Taking care off before he left.

‘A snake on a lamb’s skin’

“I see you kept my slot open.” Will said as he carefully shrugged his coat off, giving his thanks when Hannibal, the ever so gentleman took it from him; to be hanged at the coat rack.

Will was wearing another midnight colored suit, that is tailored to him perfectly. His once wavy hair is slicked back, not a hair out of place. Hannibal waited for him to remove his gloves, yet the other man has not made any move.

Will saw how Hannibal was looking at his hands and smiled. “I get cold easily.” Was his answer on the unspoken question.

Hannibal merely raised an eyebrow and ushered his patient? Friend? Do they still have a professional or a platonic relationship? Do they even still have a relationship? The doctor continued to muse while he led Will to his office. The man, took it up to himself to seat on the patient’s chair, as if he was doing it every Wednesday night for the past three years.

“Would you like some drink, Will?” Hannibal offered, being at a total lost at what to do and how to proceed with this new Will. He did not wait for any reply as he poured a finger on each tumbler that he has.

“It’s William.” The reply ghosted on his neck

It took every fiber of Hannibal's control not to flinch. Since when did Will moved so fast? This is the first time that two of them has met ever since the party and somehow, Hannibal still got that odd feeling that something was amiss.

Trying not to look stunned, Hannibal faced Will, who is about a meter away from him, looking at the recent addition on his collection of knick knacks. Will gave him that half smirk that he always sees during the blasted party. Its as if Will knows something that everyone else does not, and that irritates the good doctor.

“Thank You, doctor.”

Hannibal has a response on his tongue, yet there is as if some sort of power that get thru his brain and short circuited it, and his mouth blurted out something stupid, like:

“You have an accent.” He blurted out, and actually cursed himself when he realizes what he just said.

That made Graham blink, once, twice, before a big toothless smile extends on his face, making Hannibal take a step back.

‘What the..?’

It was as if Hannibal’s whole body was frozen with that single smile, an occurrence that has never happened to him before. He was a predator, a monster beneath his skin. Yet seeing Will… William right now, having the other man’s presence invade this very room terrifies him.

“I have forgot to tell you… I have been living in England for the past three years.” Will cheerfully said, before taking a long sip on his drink. He gave an appreciative hum, and stared at the tumbler “Very good whiskey.”

That is all the doctor needs, an invitation for him to get familiar with Will once more.

“Lovely country. Though, its always wet.”

“It is.” Will chuckled “It was different yet familiar.”

He took another sip before motioning for the chair. The doctor merely nods, his sanguine eyes following the other man, cataloging each and every change that Will had. From the way the other man walked, on how he stood with his shoulders in a perfect line. How his suit costs more than his home in Wolf Trap before, to his well polished shoes. Everything about him screams of power. And it was as if Will has been groomed on such manner since he was a mere babe.

‘Impossible.’ Hannibal thought as he made his way to the opposite chair ‘Three years is but a short time. It takes years to be a gentleman.’

That is what William is now, a proper gentleman. It's as if he was reborn into someone new. Hannibal is now intrigued by this new William, and he want nothing more than to peel the new skin that this William has worn.

"Shall we begin?"

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea how long this shizz would be, and oh! I hope that I did not create any mistakes :3 do enjoy lovies.


End file.
